Welcome Back, Psycho!
by aimtbj
Summary: A happy Shawn comes back to the Center after his psychotic episode! Set right after Graduation Day.


Hello there! This ficlet may seem late in coming, considering all that has happened between "Graduation Day" now, but given all the tension, I thought a simple humorous piece would work. Hopefully it does! Oh, and I apologize if Devon's character seems extremely AU: this piece isn't made to be taken seriously! Just laugh! Whee!

One more quick note: just in case the italics don't show up, all first-person statements are Shawn's thoughts.

Disclaimer: I don't own The 4400 at all and make no money from them whatsoever.

Shawn Farrell emerged from his specially ordered limo with great triumph. He was a free man again! Well, free until he walked five feet into the 4400 Center which now consumed every aspect of his free time…but who cared? He was out of the institution, and that was all that mattered!

Looking back, it was really a miracle that he was free to go only hours after his return. For one, breaking out wasn't exactly condonable behavior, and two, he had participated in said breakout while clinically insane. The doctors were not going to let a mentally sound Shawn just leave without running tests! Luckily, good old Uncle Tommy ran some interference and the young healer was back home by 9:00 the next morning.

Just in time for work.

Shawn embraced the chill in the air as he walked through the welcoming doors of his refuge, his home. Ah, home brought joys no other place could bring-even if it was coupled with work! The mere thought of the comfort of loved ones instantly filled him with such-

"Shawn! Oh my." Devon, who had been dutifully stationed at the front desk, spotted the teenaged figurehead during his inspired reverie. She glanced nervously about the crowd as she dashed quickly to the grateful boy's side. She cleared her throat. "Hello. Shawn. This. Is. Devon. Do. You. Remember. Me?"

Shawn's eyebrows arched. "Uh, Devon? You can really stop talking like that. I'm cured now. See?" Unfortunately, at the mention of Shawn's name, a sudden silence swept over the people. The moment was then interrupted by whispers, snickers, and stares. "Perfect."

But Devon took no notice. Delighted with the recovery of her boss's sanity, she gave him an affectionate (but highly professional) hug, before politely asking, "How did you recover? As off as you were when they dragged you out, I didn't think we'd ever see you again!"

"Oh. Well, Isa-" He stopped. _Better not mention anything about Isabelle! Everyone's as freaked about her as it is! _"Um, miracle of medicine. So! Is, uh, everything with The Center running smoothly?"

Devon's smile widened. "Oh yes! At first, everyone here was worried that your 'illness' would raise suspicion and doubt among the patrons, but as it turns out, people felt such sympathy that we rallied much more support for our cause! The video of you trashing your room actually brought in more checks than-"

"My room?" Poor Shawn was puzzled. "You have a picture of me destroying my room?" _And I vaguely remember that…_

"Not just a picture: an entire video feed! You see, Mr. Ross devised the idea long ago to keep tabs on you just in case you cracked under the pressure, so he installed several miniature spy cameras all over your suite!"

_I'm too young for high blood pressure. _He began slowly. "When was this?"

"Two days after he arrived."

"And you knew about this?"

"Most of the higher-ranking staff did. But the only one with viewing privileges was Matthew."

_Matthew better hope that he died suddenly of a stroke-like incident while I was away. Otherwise, I am going to KILL him! _"And when exactly were these cameras turned on?"

The young woman pondered the panicked inquiry for a moment or two. "As far as I know, they were never off. They caught all sorts of things!" She wisely read Shawn's face and quickly amended her statement with "Or so I'm told! But you get the idea: you were under constant surveillance." Devon gazed of into space as she was apparently recalling something. "Oh! That reminds me. Richard saw the tapes-" Shawn paled. "-and he says he really needs to speak with you."

Shawn decided to push that unpleasant image away, most likely because he was losing the battle to form coherent thoughts. With a sigh, he asked (in a pleading tone), "These cameras have all been removed, right? ALL of them?"

"Of course! The entire staff decided that cameras were simply too dangerous to expose you to given your condition, so we took them out while we redid your apartment."

"Good. I'm glad to hear…" his voice trailed off as a pained expression crossed his features. "What about my apartment?"

Shawn had just come off of a very stressful week. He went insane, became a fugitive while still technically crazy, and found out that Isabelle was obsessed with him enough to kill. Any hope of kicking back in his home for just one day to recover was dashed when he saw-

"…you're room!" Devon cheerfully announced. "Do you like it?" Even the friendly Devon had to find amusement in the choked sounds Shawn was now emitting. They really were quite hilarious.

He finally found his voice, although it was about an octave higher. "What did you do to it?"

His wonderfully comfortable apartment had been covered from floor to ceiling with light green foam ("Green's a neutral color! It's been proven to reduce anger!"), and all nick-knacks had mysteriously vanished, nowhere to be seen. _At least there was no white light involved_.

He tentatively stepped inside. _Squishy. Yay_. "Devon, before I throw you out, would you please tell me what else you changed?"

"Certainly Shawn! Let's see. We've removed all of the sharp objects we could fine…" _Makes since, considering what I did to my arm with that scalpel_. "All furniture is now bolted to the ground…" _A little paranoid, but understandable. _"The pipes in your bathroom have also been adjusted so that you can't run water for a period of more than six minutes." Shawn's head snapped up fast enough to give him whiplash. Which it did.

Devon was kind enough to go on explaining. "It's so you can't drown yourself. Also, if you look at the windows, you'll see they aren't there anymore. But we did replace them with…" The more she prattled on, the more Shawn contemplated early retirement. Or early suicide. However, his attention was again recaptured when Devon delivered a stunning blow. "And just one more thing!" She smiled oh-so-sweetly. "You're pillows are now anchored to the mattress! We wouldn't want you smothering yourself in your sleep!"

Shawn was out of his living room before the sentence was finished. He now stood, mouth agape, at the foot of his bed. Tears threatened him. "Devon, I can't sleep like that. I…" He lowered his head, ashamed. "I like to cuddle in my sleep."

Devon chuckled. "Already taken care of! Isabelle has volunteered to be your personal cuddle buddy every night. Speaking of which, Richard really does want to talk to you."

Shawn stood motionless for several seconds before mechanically turning his head toward his companion. "Congratulations Devon."

A smile. "For what?"

Her boss sighed. "Daniel Armand, with his 4400 _ability_ did not make me nearly as crazy as you have right now!" Her response died on her lips though, as a door slamming violently into the wall interrupted the pair. Suprisingly, foam on foam made a very loud noise.

Isabelle, eyes ablaze and hair swirling in the wind that mysteriously appeared indoors, burst into the room, uttering her cry of "Who's making Shawn crazy? Where's Armand?"

Shawn, with a hand over his racing heart, breathlessly stated, "It's nothing Isabelle! Devon and I were just talking about my return! Right, Devon?"

He heard the door to the living room shut and suddenly there were only two in the suite. Isabelle looked at Shawn with love and adoration as she soothed out his tousled hair. "Is everything alright?"

Incredulous, Shawn came near to exploding. "No, Isabelle! I don't even know where to start. There were cameras…they saw us…my pillows…and there are straight jackets in my closet!"

"But they're so cute!" She inched closer. "You need to work out that frustration. We could-"

"No thanks. Just send up Matthew: I need to take out a little anger on him."

The very scary vixen admonished him with a giggle. "Oh Shawn, I hardly think beating up on corpses is very ethical."

"Corpses? Wha…What happened?"

She dismissed it with a wave of her hand. "Besides, I just remembered seeing my father out in the hall, and I think he wanted to-"

"AH! I know! I KNOW! I respect him. You know that. But right now I could care less if he came right now in a flurry of lightning to come and kick the living crap out of me!"

All too soon his front door was ripped off of it's hinges and flung toward the nearest window (which of course wasn't real). In the discarded frame stood none other than Richard Tyler: his face a mask of rage.

"Shawn, I know you just got back and all," his voice was magnificently calm. That was Shawn's favorite quality about the older man_. I should tell him that. While I grovel._ "So I want to keep this short. I'm defending my daughter's honor tomorrow whenever I next see you. I would do it now, but I need to lecture Isabelle about her sins."

"Which I'll ignore!" piped in she.

"That's okay, Baby. I'll try anyway." With that, Richard Tyler escorted his baby twenty-year-old out of temptation. But not before shouting over his shoulder, "Tomorrow Shawn!"

Shawn sank into his unforgiving bed with immovable pillows. Something had to give.

One ring. Two. Three. "Hello, you've reached Abenson Psychiatric Hospital; this is Judy, how may I help you?"

"Hello! This is Shawn Farrell. You may remember me, I was a patient of Dr. Clayton's only yesterday."

"Oh, yes! The miraculous case of a young man gone nuts and then recovering! How are you? Good I hope, because your rehabilitation reflects so well on the hospital."

"Actually, I'd hoped you could re-admit me."

There was a pause. "I'm sorry, Sir, but you sound just fine, so I think I'll just be-"

"My teeth! Ah! My back teeth are melting!"

"Someone will be over right away to pick you up, Mr. Farrell."

The little faker set down his phone with a smirk. _It's a strange life when you have to lose your sanity to gain it. Oh well, at least I can ditch the Center for a while!_

"Shawn! Could you come here for a minute please?"

_Ah, crap. _


End file.
